


Loathly

by aewriting



Category: Roswell New Mexico (TV 2019)
Genre: Ageism, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Arranged Marriage, Arthurian, Homophobia, M/M, Oral Sex, Sexism, Sexual Content, Shapeshifting, Sir Gawain and the Dame Ragnell
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-08
Updated: 2020-10-07
Packaged: 2021-03-02 05:34:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 16,885
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23539942
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aewriting/pseuds/aewriting
Summary: When King Manes and his sons are caught illegally hunting on Antarian lands, King Noah gives King Manes a choice - correctly answer a riddle or accept death. A year-long search for the correct answer ensues, leading the youngest son of the king, Alex, to strike a bargain with a mysterious woman who claims to know the answer.This is an AU of the Arthurian legend "Sir Gawain and the Dame Ragnell."
Relationships: Michael Guerin/Alex Manes
Comments: 165
Kudos: 125





	1. The Hunt

It was supposed to be a pleasure trip.

The King was fond of hunting, as many men are, particularly men like, well, the King. He had insisted that his sons accompany him, and the oldest three had agreed enthusiastically, looking forward to the sport of it, the conquest.

Not Alex, though. To be sure, he’d nodded and smiled like all the rest, but he had no intrinsic interest in hunting. One couldn’t refuse the King, though. 

They were hunting deer today, a fairly benign pursuit – not like the annual boar hunt every fall. Alex would never, never admit it, but on those, the more dangerous hunts, he would always secretly root for the animal. In fits, he would allow himself a daydream of a world without his father. 

Of course, if his father was actually run through, it was unlikely that his oldest brother’s rule would be much different.

“You fool!” comes his father’s voice, sharp and close to his ear. “You had a clear shot – what were you thinking?”

_I was thinking about your death._

Alex shakes the thought from his mind, looks up. Sure enough, there’s a young buck darting out of the clearing, well out of range now. “I’m sorry, sir. I was distracted.”

Jesse scoffs, rolls his eyes. “Obviously.” Kicks his horse, too hard, and rides off.

Alex sighs, adjusts himself in his saddle. Double checks his balance. It’s harder now, riding a horse. Seems like everything’s harder now…

“Look alive,” Flint’s calling to him. He sighs, nudges his horse along. Frowns. Where… where are they? His father’s a vain man, cocksure and full of himself. He’s well aware of the limits of his territory, and Alex is almost certain they’ve exceeded them. He curses under his breath. Dear god, why push it? And for what – a trophy his father can display alongside hundreds of others? By barreling ahead into Anterian lands, the King is risking all of their lives.

He daren’t protest, though. Gregory could get away with it. Flint, even. But not Alex.

He proceeds cautiously, guiding his horse through the clearing, keeping the rest of the party in his sights. Without warning, a beautiful stag bounds right up to them, seemingly unaware of the danger they present.

“He’s mine,” the King asserts, claiming the stag. Alex watches as his father stalks the deer, takes careful aim with his bow, and fires his arrow straight to the stag’s heart.

Alex has seen death many times, but this… this makes him flinch.

Jesse and Alex’s brothers whoop in triumph, ride ahead to inspect the kill and fawn all over Jesse. Distracted as they are, it’s Alex who first notices the tall figure on the periphery of the woods.

Figures, plural. For anyone would recognize the central figure – Noah, King of the Antarians. He’s flanked by soldiers, all with weapons drawn. The Manes delegation doesn’t stand a chance.

And in this moment, Alex is angry. Bitterly angry with his father. He has been for years, of course, as far back as his memory stretches, but it’s heightened now, intensified. Is this really how he will die? At the hands of the Antarian horde, slaughtered for poaching a goddamn deer? Pride goeth before the fall, they say, and given his father’s pride, well, this could be the ultimate tumble.

“Imagine my surprise,” says Noah, voice loud and sure, “when I was informed that there was a hunting party from Unidos on the Antarian lands. I thought it was common knowledge, how much I prize these hunting grounds. Surely this had to be a confused peasant, half-starved under the cruelty of King Manes’ reign. Just the thought made me inclined toward generosity.” His gaze goes hard. “Seeing you, King Manes, I find that such an impulse has deserted me.”

Jesse’s mouth is a thin line, pinched and unpleasant. His last arrow is still buried in the deer’s carcass, Alex knows, and though he and his brothers have arrows enough among them, they are no match for King Noah’s men. 

“I feel that the gods have surely smiled on me today,” King Noah says, “for they have delivered you _and_ your sons straight to me. I believe it is past time that I end you and your cruel bloodline.”

“King Noah!” Jesse shouts. “You are not a cowardly man. Would you really slay me here where I sit, unarmed? To do so would bring you no honor!”

“Honor, no. But pleasure, yes,” Noah says, and a few of his men laugh. 

Jesse raises a hand. “Should word spread of this, none of the other leaders of the land will deal with you. You will be shamed.” He swallows, hard, and Alex can see that his father is wary. Not scared, perhaps, but at least aware of the danger they are in. “Spare my life, and I will grant you anything. Lands, gold, favorable trade agreements. Name it.”

Alex imagines that his own face must look as shocked as his brothers’. Flint’s mouth is hanging open in disbelief, and Alex quickly eyes King Noah. Surely he must know how unprecedented such an offer is from King Manes…

“I desire no land, or gold, or trade agreements,” Noah says disdainfully, parroting Jesse’s words back to him. He frowns. “However, I will not have my honor called into question. I will give you a chance to save your life.” He considers Jesse for a long moment. Looks over the rest of them, too, in that unsettling Antarian way of his. Finally, he clears his throat, speaks. “In one year and a day, you are to appear before me, here in the woods, in this very spot. Alone and unarmed. And if at that time you cannot solve my riddle, then no one can object to me taking your life.”

Jesse looks as if he is about to protest, but Noah simply holds up a hand. As if by magic (and some say it _is_ magic), Jesse’s mouth cannot open – he cannot speak despite his attempts. Noah smiles. “Swear it. Swear on your honor that you will return in a year and a day.” Jesse slumps forward, whatever hold Noah had on him is now released, but he still does not speak. “And if you don’t return then… well. I am Antarian. I’m sure you have heard the rumors, about us.” Noah eyes Jesse. “I will approach you one way or another. In one form or another.”

A chill goes down Alex’s back.

“Have we a deal, King Manes? Or would you prefer I kill you and your sons now, where you stand? You are, after all, on my hunting grounds. That makes you my rightful prey.”

Jesse exhales. “This is abominable treatment. But I will agree to the riddle. How hard could an Antarian puzzle be, after all?”

Noah arches an eyebrow. “You must tell me what it is that everyone desires most, above all else.” He holds Jesse’s stare for a long moment, then raises his hand in a commanding fashion. His men finally, finally lower their weapons. “One year and one day,” he says, before retreating back into the woods. 

Jesse whirls around to face his sons. “This stays among us and only us, do you understand?” he hisses, his gaze lingering on Alex.

Alex nods his head quickly, adds his voice to his brothers’ chorus affirming their agreement.

Gregory speaks up first. “We will find out this answer, father, rest assured. As we journey, we will ask everyone we come across for their answer. In this way, we are bound to find out the truth before too long.”

***

It was a tricky question, Alex thought, and the responses they received varied wildly, even among he and his brothers.

“Every man,” Gregory says thoughtfully, “desires power. Wealth.” He smiles. “A woman to warm his bed. And his cock.”

“ _Every_ man?” Flint says, note of derision in his voice as he glances at Alex.

By god. This again. Just because he doesn’t lay with women, it’s as if he’s not a real man, somehow not as brave or true, despite the injuries he sustained on the battlefield. The sacrifices he made… Flint’s mockery makes him think, though. “But it’s not every man.”

Flint raises an eyebrow. “What do you mean, brother?”

“King Noah, he didn’t ask what every _man_ desires most. He said _everyone_ , and I assume that includes men _and_ women. Of Unidos, Antar, and all the other known kingdoms.”

Gregory considers him. “You have a point.”

Everyone had a healthy respect for the Antarians. Their kingdom was a mysterious one, shrouded in secrecy. Though there were rumors of tumult within the royal family, with a rivalry between King Noah and his brother in law, Lord Max, the subjects were understood to be a happy – well-tended and in possession of gifts that, to outsiders, seemed nothing short of black magic.

They were also said to live by a very… different moral code, particularly when it came to the bedroom. The copious taboos of Unidos were apparently nonexistent in Antar.

It was enough to make a man curious.


	2. The Crone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alex and his brothers search for answers to King Noah's riddle.

Alex and his brothers, by this point, had been on a crusade for almost a year, and had come to no consensus. Naturally, Jesse had been in a vile mood, even worse than usual. With time running out, he’d ridden with Alex and Flint to the far reaches of the Manes territory – close to the Antarian border, with the thought that the responses of the inhabitants of the border zone might be more aligned with an Antarian way of thinking, since it had been King Noah who had posed the riddle, after all.

Some days, Alex wonders why he is trying so hard. Why not just let Noah kill his father? Realistically, though, they were all there that day. All in the Antarian woods, all trespassing, all hunting King Noah’s deer. No telling that he wouldn’t come for all of them if Jesse didn’t deliver the proper answer. 

Focused as he is on contemplating these questions of mortality, he almost doesn’t notice the woman on the trail. “Whoa,” he eases his horse.

The woman is… distinct. Older, much older even than Jesse, and oddly proportioned, with a mess of wiry grey curls. A fine mount, though, and an even finer cloak of richly dyed wool, woven with precious stones. Not… not an attractive woman, but a stately one, nonetheless. Her eyes, though… her eyes, Alex could say with certainty, are memorable. Large, amber-colored, expressive. 

She rides up to Jesse. “Good day, King Manes,” she calls. Jesse’s eyes narrow, and he looks at her disdainfully. Alex knows his father, knows the way he talks about women, treats them. A woman like this, under normal circumstances, would be totally invisible to him. He seems offended, now, that she is forcing an interaction. Jesse looks like he is about to say as much when she speaks again.

“Like it or not, but your life is in my hands.”

Jesse’s eyes widen. “Is that a threat?”

The woman chuckles. “By the gods, no!”

“Then what did you mean by it?” asks Flint, hand on the hilt of his sword.

“Word has spread about you. Your quest. You seek answers. Well,” she revises. “You seek _an_ answer. _The_ answer.”

Jesse stares at her. “Go on.”

Her lips quirk into a half smile. “None of the answers you’ve received to date can help you,” she says, matter-of-fact. “But I know the true answer, and I am willing to help you.” She pauses. “On one condition.”

Jesse rolls his eyes, sighs loudly. 

The woman continues unperturbed. “I seek the protection of the Manes kingdom, and the security that can only come with an alliance with a man of the Manes lineage. Give me one of your sons in marriage, and I shall tell you the correct answer to King Noah’s puzzle.”

Jesse recoils. “Marriage?”

“Aye,” says the old woman. “Those are my conditions.”

“Sentence one of my sons to a life with _you_? Woman, have you seen yourself?”

Her eyes narrow. “I have indeed, and that changes nothing of my offer.” She pauses, looks Jesse up and down. “Lord Noah does not know that I have this answer that you have been seeking. He has been proclaiming, far and wide, that he has you beat, that he will soon have your head. He knows that he has given you an impossible task and is assuming your failure.” She smiles wickedly. “I can’t imagine that you like to lose, King Manes.”

Jesse regards her carefully. “My youngest. Alex. He will do, for you.”

Alex is stock still, shocked. 

How _dare_ he.

His father… his father _knows_ about him. Has known for sure since the Jelnos campaign 4 years ago, has suspected for far longer. He hates, _hates_ Alex’s… preferences. Perversions. But he knows about them. And yet…

Alex had always hoped he would escape marriage. Jesse has four sons – there are three others for ruling kingdoms, making alliances, continuing the royal bloodline. Alex had always hoped he could simply do… something else. While he never dreamed of actually being able to live his life openly, authentically, he at least hoped that his father would not force him into some sham political marriage.

But here he is.

He thinks about it, then, really thinks. Looks at this woman, whose name he does not even know, and in this moment, considers that this… could actually be better. Better than marrying some child bride from god knows where, being expected to… to bed her, produce children. God, the thought turns his stomach, leaves him cold and upset. With this woman… she is too old to bear children, surely. There would not be that pressure. And if he was married to her, to save his father’s life, perhaps his father would ease up in his scrutiny of him, perhaps the rumors about Alex’s proclivities would finally quiet… 

“Show me this ‘Alex’,” says the woman in a commanding tone. Jesse gestures to Alex, and Alex urges his horse forward.

“My lady,” he says, hating how unsteady his voice sounds.

“What say _you_ to this plan, Sir Alex?” the woman asks. 

Alex draws a deep breath. “I am under the command of my lord and king. It pleases me to carry out his wishes.”

The woman narrows her eyes. Nods. “Very well,” she says. “He’ll do. Thank you, King Manes.”

Jesse nods. ‘What is your name, my lady?”

“I am the Lady Guerin.”

“Lady Guerin,” Jesse repeats, his tone cold. “I do not like being tricked into bargains, so now I ask that you keep up your end of the deal. Pray tell, what is it that everyone desires most, above all else?”

She holds up a wrinkled hand. “No, no, not until you must present the answer to King Noah. What’s to stop from killing me, otherwise?” She smiles, slow and cunning. “A royal son is a limited resource, and I’m sure many a person would love to marry a man handsome as your son.” Jesse scoffs a bit. The woman narrows her eyes. “A soldier too, no?”

Alex looks down quickly. She has seen his mangled leg, despite his best attempts to conceal it.

“I understand there is one month left,” says the woman. “I intend to get to know my betrothed.”

*** 

They set up camp outside the woman’s house. They’re guarding her, really, but they try to make it more pleasant than that. 

His brothers are harsh in their judgment of her. 

“I’ve never seen a hag so foul,” Flint mutters late one night as they sit around the campfire. “Thank the gods father gave her to Alex,” he says to Gregory. “Can you even imagine the horror of bedding her?”

Gregory grunts a little, pokes at the fire.

Alex sighs, so deeply. “Flint,” he says, voice low. “She is to be my wife. I ask that you please keep your thoughts to yourself.” Flint raises an eyebrow at him but stays quiet. “She… she is saving father’s life. She’s given us food and shelter here.”

It’s been good food, too. Every day, the old woman cooks for them. Even Flint’s been impressed. The food is rustic, nothing like the delicacies at the palace, but everything is filling and tasty. Alex helps her, sometimes, supposes he should at least speak to her if they are truly going to be wed. He has been surprised, pleasantly. The woman is wise, with a wicked sense of humor. He’s nearly concerned for her sometimes, with the sharpness of her wit. She seems savvy though – won’t deploy her cunning too openly around Jesse, and most of it just sails over his brothers’ heads. She’s modest, too – almost oddly so, Alex thinks. Every night, at dusk, she bids her leave and retreats to her small cabin, not to be seen until morning. He has invited her to sit by the fire in the evenings, to share in song and wine, but she has always refused. Without the evenings to chat, Alex takes advantage of their time together during the day, assisting with the cooking, the laundry.

“Why marriage?” Alex asks one afternoon, as they chop onions on a makeshift table in the clearing.

The woman looks at him with those amber eyes, studies him. Alex feels vulnerable under her scrutiny.

“You could have just asked for protection. Why did you press for marriage?”

The woman purses her lips, looks down. “I have had troubles with King Noah of Antar. For my own safety, I needed to be sure your father would honor our bargain. I wanted him to commit to something that would be difficult to back out of.” She worries her lip slightly with her teeth, and looks at Alex with great uncertainty. The expression seems so out of place.

“I am sorry to have put you in such a position. I… I know what I am. What I look like. You are sacrificing your future, your chances for a real match. You’re a young, attractive man and – “

Alex places a hand on her bony wrist, interrupts her. “Please, it’s… it’s fine. Just…” he trails off. He feels an urge to tell her, about him. To disclose the limitations that a marriage to him would entail. “I cannot give you what other men could.”

She looks at him sharply. 

“I… I assume it is… past your time,” Alex stammers. “For children.” The woman narrows her eyes. “That is… fortunate. For I fear, I couldn’t…”

The woman nods knowingly. “I do not please you.” 

Alex looks around, drops his voice. “No woman could please me. In that way.”

The woman’s head snaps up. She scrutinizes him, as if searching for something. “Were you… injured, there? As with your leg?”

Alex’s eyes widen. “No, no… it’s not that. It’s…” He goes quiet. What he’s about to say… there are many in Unidos that would see him hung for his desires, or worse. But this woman… in the short time he has known her, she has proven herself open-minded. Clever and worldly in unexpected ways. And she lives so close to the Antarian lands, lands where, if the rumors are true, desires like Alex’s are accepted, embraced, even…

“I desire men,” he says, plainly. 

The woman looks startled. “Oh.”

“As a husband,” he says, clearing his throat, “should you have need of… needs,” he stammers. “I will not stand in your way, as long as you are discreet. We, we will figure something out for you. If you wish.” He feels embarrassed, speaking of such things.

“I was not under the impression that such… arrangements would be acceptable in Unidos,” the woman says, carefully. “Is this a test, Sir Alex?”

“No,” Alex says quickly. “No test.” His shoulders slump. “Just the truth. A bitter one.” He bites his lip, a little. “I just… I thought you should know. Before you commit to a marriage with me. I apologize if I have offended you.” He looks at the ground. “Disgusted you.”

The woman grips his hand tighter and, without warning, touches his chin, gently. Tips his head up to meet her gaze. “Nothing about you disgusts me.”

Alex is silent, just staring at her.

The woman drops her hand from his face, then, looks away quickly. “The people of Unidos have strange prejudices that I do not share. Your nature, your… desires, your very being… they offend me not. Not in the slightest,” she says forcefully. “But I must ask, why did you agree to a match with me?”

Alex looks at her sadly. “Perhaps I shouldn’t speak so freely to you. I don’t, don’t truly know you, your background, who you are…” He shakes his head. “But, by the gods, I _want_ to tell you.” His voice is barely above a whisper now, despite Flint’s absence. “I cannot go against my father. For any reason. You… you have surely seen the type of man he is. And I thought, well… there are worse matches. Given your, your age,” he says, delicately, “I had hoped that certain marital duties might not need to be part of our contract.”

The woman holds his gaze with those unfathomable eyes. “Not if you don’t want to. _Never,_ if you don’t want to, Sir Alex.”

She looks so earnest, in that moment, so open and true. Alex feels, deep in his gut, that he can trust her. He raises their still-clasped hands to his mouth, presses a chaste kiss to the ridge of her knuckles. 

“Thank you,” he whispers.


	3. The Answer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Lady Guerin provides King Manes with the answer he seeks.

The day arrives, and Jesse breezes back to the old woman’s cottage, all pomp and circumstance. There’s always tension around Jesse, but it’s heightened now. 

“I wish to see the hag,” he announces.

Alex’s jaw tightens. “Do you mean the Lady Guerin, father?”

Jesse scowls at him. “Yes. Lady Guerin. The hag.”

Alex shakes his head a bit. “She is saving your life.”

Jesse scoffs. “Have you gone soft for your bride to be?”

Flint laughs at that. “I think soft is the only thing Alex _can_ be with a woman.”

Gregory stifles a laugh, but Jesse just holds up a hand. “Bring her to me, now.”

Alex bites back a retort, goes to the door of the cottage, knocks twice. Lady Guerin opens the door after a few moments, revealing an outfit Alex has never seen before – a simple dress, cheap, even, but overlaid with a beautiful cloak, trimmed in gold thread and seed pearls. It’s long on the woman, as if it had been made for someone taller.

“Good morning to you, Lady Guerin.”

“And good morning to you, Sir Alex.” She peeks around him, raises an eyebrow inconspicuously. “The King is here, I see.”

“Indeed,” Alex says. “He wishes to speak to you.”

She sighs, then reaches up to Alex’s tunic, grasps it. Pulls him in close. “Your father is a cruel king and a worse man,” she says, voice low. “I confess that I am torn. I have his answer, I know it to be true, but…” she pauses, “I find myself contemplating giving him an alternative response.”

Alex’s jaw drops involuntarily. “My, my lady,” he falters. “What you are suggesting, it’s – “

“Justice?”

“Treason.”

She releases his tunic, and he stumbles back a bit. Her grip had been surprisingly strong.

“If you cross him, you’ll be dead. My brothers will see to it. The… the whole reason you proposed this was for protection. Why even _think_ about endangering yourself?”

She stares at him for a long time, a strange expression on her face. “If you don’t know now, I believe you will find out soon,” she says cryptically, not even waiting for a response before pushing past him, cloak flowing regally behind her.

“Finally!” Flint calls when the Lady Guerin exits the cottage. “Thought perhaps you two lovebirds were having a tumble.”

“Flint,” Alex says sharply. He looks to the Lady Guerin to gauge if she is offended, but instead she is just staring at Flint, an amused, almost pitying expression on her face. She straightens, then, and faces Jesse.

“My king,” she says, a bit overdramatically, curtsying low.

“Today is the day. I would take you with me, but King Noah was very clear that it should be just me. You will remain here under guard until I have safely returned.” His face goes cold, even colder than usual. “And if I do not return, you are to be publicly executed, in as painful and creative a way as can be conceived.”

The woman doesn’t even flinch. “Of course, my king,” she says, so sweetly. 

Jesse glares at her a while longer before drawing himself up to his full height. “And so, it comes time to tell us all the answer to King Noah’s riddle. What _is_ it that everyone desires most, above all else?”

The woman swallows, and her eyes flick over to Alex, just for a moment, before she answers the king. “Sovereignty,” she says simply, voice clear and strong.

Jesse’s brow furrows. “What? What is that supposed to mean?”

“Sovereignty,” the Lady Guerin repeats, “means to be able to rule one’s life as one sees fit. To not be beholden to the whims and commands of another.”

“That’s nonsense,” Jesse mutters.

“Is it?” Lady Guerin questions, drawing nearer to Jesse. “It must be easy for you, dear king, to believe the concept to be nonsense. Irrelevant. Your own sovereignty is built into the very nature of your station. But consider the peasant woman, totally at the mercy of her husband. The serf toiling under a cruel lord.” She exhales, continues. “The dutiful son of a monstrous father.”

_By the gods, what is she doing?_

But Jesse, Jesse is still in the dark, so focused on his own fate with King Noah, believing the woman to be speaking in hypotheticals… “You’re _sure_ that this is the answer King Noah seeks?”

“Quite sure, my king.”

Jesse regards her warily. “Very well,” he finally says. “You are aware of the consequences, if you have given me this response in jest or error?”

“Well aware,” the woman says, not backing down. Smiling up at Jesse, in fact.

“Alright,” Jesse says. “Sovereignty,” he mutters under his breath. He mounts his fine horse and turns to his two eldest sons. “I wish for you to ride with me as far as the clearing. Alex, Flint, you are to remain here guarding the Lady Guerin until your brothers return. With or without me.”

And with that, he’s off, urging his horse onward.

Alex and Flint watch him go, not speaking until he is well out of ear shot.

Flint turns to the Lady Guerin. “Sovereignty? Really?” He shakes his head.

“I believe her,” says Alex quietly.

The woman arches an eyebrow.

“Course you do,” Flint mutters. 

Alex watches as the Lady Guerin begins busying herself with preparations for the evening meal.

“What does your father like?” she asks Alex and Flint, nonchalantly.

“Nothing you make is worthy of our father,” Flint says, disdainful. “But perhaps a fresh-baked loaf or two, and your pheasant stew.”

Alex knows the woman well enough by now that he can see the amusement in her eyes. “Right away, my good sir.”

She retreats to the cottage to retrieve the large cooking pot. Flint watches her carefully as she rolls it outside.

“By the gods, she looks like a witch right now, with her cauldron.”

Alex rolls his eyes. “ _You_ were the one that wanted stew. What was she supposed to do?”

Flint shakes his head. “I don’t like her. There’s something about her…”

Alex scoffs. “You don’t like anyone who’s the least bit different from you.”

Flint gives a mean little smirk. “Oh, I can appreciate _some_ differences, in a way you can’t.”

“Does _everything_ come back to that, for you?”

Flint shrugs. Eyes the woman again. “You know, brother,” he says thoughtfully, voice low, “you don’t _have_ to marry her. We were the only ones there, just us brothers, when father made that deal. If her answer was indeed correct, which is _far_ from a given, we can kill her before heading home.”

Alex must look shocked, for Flint quickly amends his words. “Or, or simply leave her here at this godforsaken cottage. She’s completely unfit for court life.”

Alex is gaping at him. “But, but father made a deal!”

Flint laughs. “As if father’s never gone back on a deal before! And who in all the kingdoms would believe her word against the word of the king?” He points in her general direction. “Look at her, Alex, really look. She’s hideous. No one would ever believe that King Manes had promised one of his sons to her.”

Alex swallows hard. “She is my betrothed. No harm is to come to her.” He sets his jaw, looks at Flint. “Unless she has proven untrue, with her response.”

Flint gives Alex a wry half-smile. “We will see soon enough.”

***

It is nearly sundown, and there is still no sign of Jesse. The woman is calmly whittling now, a small statue out of wood. It is an odd habit for an older woman, but Alex supposes she has no man in her life. She looks relaxed, calm.

Flint is just the opposite – on edge, suspicious. He’s sharpening his sword, quite conspicuously, obviously attempting to cow the woman.

It is having… quite the opposite effect, actually. The woman occasionally looks at Flint in a downright patronizing manner, shakes her head, and resumes her whittling.

“She has lied, I _know_ she has,” Flint says. “What… what if she is allied with King Noah? What if he has taken out father _and_ our brothers, and we are next?” His eyes widen. “She might have drugged the food.”

Alex whirls around. “Not everyone is so conniving as father.” Flint’s eyes widen, as do Alex’s. “Forgive me,” Alex says quickly. “I… I am tense, too, over this whole situation.”

Flint looks at him, and there is a flash of pity. “No doubt,” he says, softly. “I… I am grateful it is you, about to sign your life away, rather than me.”

Alex exhales, eyes Flint. “Why do you think she has lied?” Because to Alex… to Alex her response was perfect. Sovereignty. A response he would never have thought of on his own, never articulated in that manner, but perfect nonetheless. It is not a lie, he knows that. Should his father not return to this clearing, he is certain it is through no trickery of the Lady Guerin.

And just as he is thinking this, King Manes rides into the clearing.

Everyone stands, quickly, including the woman. Jesse guides his horse right up to her cottage.

“Lady Guerin, you have proven true in your response.” A smile plays at his lips. “King Noah was most disappointed.”

A complicated expression crosses the Lady Guerin’s face. “No doubt, my king.”

“We shall ride tomorrow for the castle at Unidos. We will accompany us, and there, you shall be married to my youngest son, Alex.”

The woman prostrates herself. It looks uncomfortable. “You have my sincere gratitude, dear king.”

Jesse leaves her like that for a long moment, stares down at her. “You may rise,” he finally says, and she does. “It has been a long day, and I am in need of nourishment.”

The woman smiles at him, politely. “There is pheasant stew and fresh-baked bread for your enjoyment, dear king. Simple fare, but hopefully it will be to your liking.” She eyes the horizon, where the sun is sinking low. “But I must beg that you grant me leave. I am but an old woman, and I must rest before our long journey in the morn. May I retire, my king?”

Jesse actually looks a bit relieved. “Of course, Lady Guerin.”

 _Well,_ thinks Alex. _It’s an improvement from ‘hag.’_


	4. The Journey

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> King Manes, his sons, and the Lady Guerin make their way back to the castle at Unidos.

Day breaks, and the Lady Guerin exits her cottage. She carries with her a small package, efficiently wrapped. “My belongings,” she says to Alex, thrusting the bundle into his hands.

Alex considers it. “This is all?”

She nods. “I am to reside in the castle at Unidos with you, as your wife. What want could I possibly have for my simple possessions?”

Alex bites his lip a bit, looks at her. “But… not _all_ of your possessions are simple,” he finally says. “I have seen your fine cloaks, the gold necklace at your breast… You needn’t tell me all of your secrets now, dear lady, but if we are to be married…”

Lady Guerin smiles at him, approvingly, he thinks. “All will be revealed. I can promise you that,” she says. She looks quickly around the clearing. “You and your brothers have made quick work of the camp.”

“Indeed,” replies Alex. He’s been up since well before dawn, packing up, ensuring that they will be prepared for the journey ahead.

Jesse sees the woman, walks toward her. “Good morning, Lady Guerin.”

Another one of her expansive curtsies. “Good morning, my king.”

“Have you a steed?”

Alex hears the huff of amusement. “A simple old woman like me, my lord? The answer is no, I’m afraid.”

Jesse nods. “Alex, since you and this…” his mouth twists a bit in dark humor, “ _lovely_ woman are to be married, I’ll allow you the thrill of sharing a mount.”

He… he thinks he is being humorous. This is his father’s way, always has been, likely will be until he is on his deathbed. Alex hates it, the casual way he cuts down others. He looks to the Lady Guerin to see if she is offended. She does not seem to be. 

“Thank you, father,” Alex says tightly.

Jesse leaves, and Alex helps the woman up from her low curtsy.

“My thanks, Sir Alex,” the woman says, brushing off her dress.

Alex peers at her. “I know you do not have many options, but will you be alright, sharing a horse with me?”

The woman gives him a wide, open smile. It, it takes Alex off guard. “Truly, Sir Alex, there is no one with whom I would rather ride.”

***

“By the gods…”

“Lady Guerin?” Alex frowns, twisting around to address her.

“My apologies, Sir Alex, it’s just…”

“Just what?”

She laughs, lightly. “You men. Of Unidos. You are really so concerned with your women’s modesty that you prefer them aside a horse, rather than astride it?”

Alex frowns a bit. “I had never considered it.”

“How lucky for you,” the woman says drily. “I am to be your wife. Would it offend you if I sat astride the animal?”

Alex was thoughtful. “I would not be offended. And we can explain it away as your lack of horsemanship, though… I do not think that is actually the case, Lady Guerin.”

A pause. “It is not, Sir Alex.”

Alex feels pleased to have guessed correctly. “Well, then, I leave the choice to you. Either ride astride, or continue aside. You can grip me tighter, if need be, whichever you choose.”

He hears the small huff of laughter from the woman. “Ah, you’ve sweetened the pot, Sir Alex.”

Alex laughs a bit. “Please, none of that.”

The woman laughs too, but it dies away quickly. He feels her rearrange her body so that her legs are astride the horse, feels her hike up her skirts to allow the motion. And then he also feels an arm circle his torso, then another arm. Not too tight, nothing untoward. “Is… is this alright?” the woman asks, voice uncertain.

“I am fine, if you are.”

“I am,” the woman says quickly. “It… it is odd. It has been a while since I have had occasion to ride, and I have never shared a mount before. Thank you for allowing me to make myself feel more comfortable. More… secure.”

“Please, my lady,” Alex says, “if there is anything I can do to assure your comfort, I wish to do it.”

“By the gods,” the woman says, fondly, “I believe you.”

***

They get to know each other, Alex and the Lady Guerin, on the back of their steed. It is four day’s journey back to the castle, and they are spending all of their time together. All time except for the night, of course. Lady Guerin continues to insist on privacy in the evening. “Beauty sleep,” she explains one night, to Flint of all people.

Flint scoffs. “Then I fear you may have to sleep all winter, my lady.”

Alex is horrified at Flint’s insolence, but Lady Guerin actually laughs, loudly. “That was rather quick for you, Sir Flint,” she says, casually, as she retreats into her tent. “Sir Alex?” she calls, just before securing the opening.

“Yes, my lady?”

She fixes him with a serious look. “I ask that no one disturb me before daybreak.”

Flint rolls his eyes. “Who in the gods’ name would try to sneak a glimpse in _your_ tent, my lady?”

Lady Guerin is unmoved. “Sir Alex?”

“Of course, my lady,” Alex says quickly. “I shall move my own bed roll to the front of your tent. Should anyone want to disturb you, they shall have to get through me, first.”

He sees her face go soft, her eyes go warm. “Thank you, Sir Alex.”

***

The woman is wearing another one of her fine, heavy cloaks. She has it spread over her, concealing the lower half of her body, obscuring the way her legs are gripping the horse, one on each side. Alex feels the solidity of her grasp around his torso. In, in another situation, with another type of person, he can see how such a touch could be… intimate. Welcome. As it is, with the woman, it is fine. Reassuring, even, to know that she is safe. Alex is surprised at how much he desires her safety. But it does make him… wonder…

“My lady,” he says. “I hope this is not too invasive a question…”

Lady Guerin pats his chest, gently. “We are to be married, Sir Alex. Despite our chats in the clearing, we are still nearly strangers. You may ask me anything.” He feels her inhale, exhale. “I shall not lie to you, my lord. I, I may not tell you everything. A lady needs her secrets, after all. But I shan’t lie.”

Alex nods. “Have you been married before?” The woman is quiet, and Alex is quick to elaborate. “Again, you needn’t answer, if you do not wish to… I simply, thought perhaps, in your younger years…”

The woman laughs, lightly. “I am not so old as I appear, Sir Alex.”

“My apologies, my lady,” Alex says, genuinely contrite. “I meant no offense.”

“Oh, I know, Sir Alex.” She pauses, thoughtful. “How old are you, pray tell?”

“Four and twenty,” he responds.

“Ah,” she says. “Well, then, I suppose I am a bit older than you after all,” she says, mirth in her voice. It’s infectious, and Alex finds himself smiling too at her humor. “I have never been married,” she continues. “Honestly, I never really considered the prospect until I encountered your party on the roadway and realized it could be my best way of gaining protection.” She is silent, for a moment, before leaning forward, lips close to Alex’s ear. “I have _lain_ with men, though.”

Alex nearly startles. “My lady?” he says, sure he’s misheard.

But the lady chuckles a bit, leans back slightly. “Have I shocked you?”

Now it is Alex’s turn to chuckle. “Ah, a bit, I confess.” He thinks on it, then. Frowns. “My lady, such an admission is… dangerous, for a woman of Unidos, about to wed. There are those who would spurn you, or worse.”

“And hearing this now, would _you_ spurn me?” She leans in again, breath warm on his neck. “Or worse?”

“No,” Alex says softly. “Of course not.”

“Then I see no danger here.”

Alex shakes his head a bit, looks ahead at his father, his brothers. “There is danger all around us,” he mutters.

“Have _you_ ever lain with a man?”

This time, Alex _does_ startle, whips around to face to woman. He sees no trace of malice there, despite his expectations. Only openness. Curiosity.

He looks around quickly, speaks in a low tone that only the woman can hear. 

“Yes.”

He turns back around to face forward, but feels the Lady Guerin’s eyes on him. 

Her voice is surprisingly small when she finally speaks. “Does he wait for you? At court?”

Alex’s jaw tightens. “No.”

He closes his eyes, for a moment. Allows himself the rare pleasure of picturing Kyle’s face, his body. As he was in life. Not… not the last time. By the gods, it gets harder, every time. Like a fresco, faded in the weather. Some aspects so sharp – mostly the sense memories. The way his mouth had felt, hot around him, the way he smelled of tinctures and herbs… But other aspects… his eyes, always so merry, so clever. Until they weren’t. He… he tries to remember the warmth of them, for he finds that he can’t remember the color. Not anymore.

A gentle touch from the woman brings Alex back to himself. “You are pained,” she says, sounding genuinely remorseful. “I am sorry I asked.”

“He is dead,” Alex says simply, though he finds it likely that the woman already knew. And by degrees, he tells a story that he has told no one.

A story of a campaign. Jelnos. A flesh wound. A shoulder, nicked by an arrow. A begrudging trip to the medical tent. And the handsome field doctor therein. Not… not one of the charlatans from the court. No, this man had been sturdy, straightforward. Had applied a salve to Alex’s shoulder, wrapped it. Efficient. Had sought Alex out, the next day, with a bitter liquid. Had sought him the next day, too, to look over the wound. Had let his hand linger, a beat too long. Had looked at Alex in a way no man had ever looked at him before.

He was his first. His only. The Jelnos campaign was rough. Alex now understood the lust his brothers and father spoke of, the way they craved a woman after a fight. But… but he didn’t understand their callousness, the disposable way they used their women. Their whores. Worse names, many a time. Because for Alex, there was nothing disposable about Kyle. And he believed that, for Kyle, there was nothing disposable about him, either.

Alex would go to him each night, sometimes still bloodied, and they would couple. The things… the things Kyle would do to him, his body. The things Kyle would allow, nay, _encourage_ … 

It was on one such night that his father entered the tent.

The next morning, Kyle was on the front lines.

That afternoon, he was dead, run through with a sword. Those merry, clever eyes gone vacant and unseeing.

Since that time, Alex hadn’t dared… hadn’t dared seek his own pleasure. Hadn’t dared seek _anything_ for himself.

“And I won’t,” he told the woman. “His death… his death is on me. It was selfish and wrong.” He swallows, with difficulty. “Unnatural.”

The woman’s hand is clasped over his, now, gripping so hard. “I want you to listen to me, Sir Alex,” she says, in a voice low and steady. “Your… love for this man. His love for you, for that is what you have just described to me. Such a connection is a gift from the gods themselves, and should be seen as such. Not selfish. Not wrong. Certainly not unnatural. There are as many ways to love as there are people under this sun. Love, real love… it is the most natural thing. Precious.”

Alex composes himself. Clears his throat. “You… you are not from Unidos. I’ve suspected from some time, but now I feel very sure.”

The woman is quiet for a moment. “You are right. I am not from Unidos.”

When it becomes clear she does not intend to elaborate, Alex sighs. “I… I am glad.” He chances a look back at her. Tears are streaming down her face.


	5. The Plan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Lady Guerin presses King Manes to finalize wedding plans.

“Woman?” Flint says loudly. “More stew!”

Alex eyes the Lady Guerin. She doesn’t even pause, simply sets down her own bowl, gathers her skirts, and wordlessly takes Flint’s empty bowl and ladles another serving of stew into it. “My lord,” she says quietly, obediently, as Flint accepts it. Jesse is looking on approvingly, and Alex exhales a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. Lady Guerin is being… surprisingly submissive lately, ever since her conversation with Alex about Jelnos. To be sure, she is still herself with Alex – sharp, witty, opinionated. But with his brothers and father… Perhaps hearing about Kyle’s fate had impressed upon her the depths of his father’s hatred.

Alex watches as the Lady Guerin resettles herself on the log she is using as a seat. She doesn’t reach for her bowl. “My king,” she says, voice hesitant and soft, and Alex freezes. “Have I permission to ask a question?”

Jesse’s mouth twitches, and for a moment, Alex thinks he is going to deny her. “I’ll allow it,” he finally says.

Lady Guerin dips her head low. “Oh thank you, my king,” she says, sounding genuinely grateful. Alex’s eyes narrow. “I feel blessed by the gods to have played some small part in assisting you with King Noah. I hardly dare ask anything more, but I must know, when can I expect to wed Sir Alex?”

“Eager, are you?”

A convincing blush appears on the woman’s face. “He has been most attentive, my king, even in the midst of this unusual situation. There are some who would find it unseemly for a woman to be traveling, alone, with a group of male companions. A quick marriage would surely silence any wagging tongues.”

Jesse huffs a bit. “I don’t know that I share your concern, my lady, given that the parties in question are you,” Alex hears the note of distaste, “and my son Alex. But I am eager to resolve our bargain. We shall hold a small gathering the evening after our return. One of our clergy will perform the ceremony at the castle. No need for a spectacle.”

The woman’s face scrunches up in concern. “That… is unfortunate.”

Jesse’s frame goes rigid. “You dare to question me?”

The woman’s brow furrows. She looks regretful. “It is not… not a question, my king, simply an observation. It has been such a busy time for you, and I am so unused to being in the presence of such greatness. I may not have spoken with proper clarity earlier, when I informed you that King Noah had, prior to you besting him, boasted about your impending death to all who would hear it.” She bites her lip. “You, of course, are all-powerful within your realm, and I heard nary a word of your troubles with King Noah inside Unidos. But over the border, in Antar…” she trails off. “The rumors there… by the gods, the things I heard were far worse than what actually transpired!” She sighs. “And I can only imagine what King Noah has told his allies.”

Jesse’s gaze is hard as he considers her. “You clearly have your own ideas about this matter, so what do you suggest?”

“A feast. A grand display. An opportunity to present the truth, to your people and to all the kingdoms in the land. Let it be known, far and wide, that King Manes of Unidos has bested Antar. It was your own cunning that allowed you to discern the correct answer, of the many you received. You needn’t have trusted me, but you did,” she says. “That was a decision borne of your own wisdom.” Her gaze drops. “I know what I am. I am no prize, especially for a royal son. But what a statement it would make, for all to know that your son had such _love_ for you, such loyalty that he would marry a woman of my station, my appearance, just because it pleased you, my king.” She raises those amber eyes now, and the effect is striking. “Let your kingdom, and all kingdoms, know your power.”

Alex is stock-still, eyes darting from his father to the woman and back. 

Jesse eyes her, a glint in his eye. “King Noah… he has spoken poorly of me? Of my cunning, my strength?”

The woman gives a shuddery little sigh. “He has spoken _abominably_ , my king.”

Jesse nods, a tight little motion. “That cannot stand.” He pauses. “We shall have a feast. A grand banquet with all of our allies. I want everyone to see me in my power, to know that I have bested King Noah of Antar in a battle of wits.” His smile goes hard. “It will also ensure that my youngest son be properly and _publicly_ recognized for his life-long commitment to you, my dear _woman_.” He emphasizes the last word as his gaze slides to Alex.

Alex steadily meets his father’s gaze, nods in submission. Jesse smiles. 

***

They’ve ridden about a mile when Alex finally speaks. “You said you wouldn’t lie.”

He hears the woman scoff. “I said I wouldn’t lie to _you_ ,” she says, matter-of-factly. “I believe it is a matter of survival that I lie to your father and brothers. Fools that they are…” she mutters.

“My brothers, I will give you. But my father…” Alex says, voice tight.

“Are, are you cross?” asks the Lady Guerin, gently squeezing Alex’s shoulder. 

Alex sighs. “Not… not cross, just confused. Why would you want a large wedding? Nothing about you that I have seen so far would lead me to believe that you desire such a display.”

“I wish for my protection to be public knowledge. I have seen the way your brothers look at me. Your father. Frankly, I am relieved to still be part of this journey.”

Alex shifted uncomfortably, thinking back to his earlier conversation with Flint. “You said you had troubles with King Noah.”

“Yes.”

Alex bit his lip. “You don’t… don’t have designs on the crown, do you? Of Unidos _or_ Antar?”

The woman chuckles. “By the gods, no. I am but one woman, and King Noah is very powerful. And Unidos, well… I would not move against your father or brothers.” She pauses. “Unless _you_ desired it.”

Alex huffs a breath. “Of course not.”

“Of course not,” the woman repeats. “My other reason for having a large, public celebration of our marriage is for _you,_ Sir Alex. Your allies, even your enemies, they _know_ the sort of ruler your father is. The sort of man. But you… I want to show them that you are different.”

“How?”

Alex can feel the woman shrug. “You are marrying me. Willingly. Without disgust or embarrassment. I told your father that such an action would reflect well on him, and to some it may. But for most, I believe that the favor will fall on you.”

“Why… why does such a thing matter to you, my lady?”

Her hand twists in his cloak, grasps at him. “You are _good_ , Sir Alex. I… I was not expecting that. You are a good man, and that deserves recognition.” Lady Guerin’s voice is unsteady with emotion. She seems to realize how tightly she is holding onto Alex, and eases her grip. “And if I am about to join the royal family of Unidos, I want to be able to learn more about the world I will inhabit. Who attends a feast only out of obligation? Who jostles for attention? That sort of thing.”

“My lady,” Alex says with a light laugh, “I fear you may be too cunning for your own well-being, at times.”

He feels the woman lean back a bit. “And does that displease you, my cunning?”

Alex shakes his head and reaches up to give the woman’s hand a light squeeze. “No, not of itself. I… I value your cunning. You have a way of… extracting what you want that is truly a talent. I just worry about my father. He does not favor you.”

“Has he ever favored a woman, or anyone that he could not totally control?”

Alex is silent.

“If it makes you feel better, Sir Alex,” says the woman softly. “I do not intend to be in his crosshairs for long.”

***

They are nearing Unidos. Once there, Alex knows there will be much business to attend to, and he realizes that he will actually miss the constant company of the Lady Guerin. With her, he finds that he can speak freely, about nearly any topic. She listens to him, but not in a submissive way, or in a manipulative manner, as with the courtiers. No, she seems to be genuinely interested in his ideas, his opinions, and ready to speak of her own, too, even when she disagrees with Alex. 

His father informed him yesterday of his intent to conduct the wedding ceremony as soon as possible. Alex knows that his father sees this as a form of control for Alex, and cannot possibly comprehend that Alex actually… likes the Lady Guerin. Not, not as a marriage _should_ be, he thinks, but he could have never had such a union anyway, not in Unidos. No, if he must marry a woman, the Lady Guerin is as fine a match as any. His father, for whom women play one of three roles - broodmare, political pawn, or pleasure object – could never understand such an arrangement.

Alex and the Lady Guerin are talking politics, at the moment.

“Who do you think will attend the wedding? Who will be invited?” she’d asked, miles ago, and it had helped the time pass, with Alex telling her at length about the various alliances and rivalries within the kingdoms. 

“King Elios will come,” Alex says, distaste evident. “He and my father are cut from the same cloth.”

“Along with King Bartos,” the woman says, note of bitterness in her voice.

Alex pauses. “He… I doubt that he will make the journey, given his state.”

“His state?” the woman says, sharply.

“Yes. Since the accident, he has rarely been seen in public. His wife, the Queen Elizabeth, has assumed his duties, and I daresay the Tamarin Isles have been all the better for it.”

The woman exhales slowly. “I don’t doubt it. I was unaware that there had been an accident, that Queen Elizabeth was in power. Anyone would be better than Bartos, that brute.”

“You don’t know the half,” Alex says, darkly. “Queen Elizabeth… she is my cousin. She grew up here, as Lady Elizabeth, in Unidos with me.”

“A beauty, I have heard.”

“Oh yes,” Alex affirms. “But not just that. Clever. So smart.”

“I… I have heard that, too,” the lady murmurs, almost fondly.

“My father never liked that much.” Alex pauses. “Tried to block her from accessing the palace libraries, shadowing the royal physicians…” He smiles at the memory. “I was her accomplice.” The smile fades, replaced by something hard and bitter. “She was fourteen when father arranged the match with Bartos. Everyone knew of his reputation.” Alex’s jaw tightens. “I am glad of his fate – is that awful?”

“What, what _did_ happen to him, exactly?” the woman asks, curious.

“It is a queer thing,” Alex says, “for they say it was a clear night. He was struck down. By lightning.”


	6. The Wedding

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Preparations are made for the wedding of Sir Alex to the Lady Guerin.

Life is _better_ , with Lady Guerin at court.

Not since Lady Elizabeth lived here has Alex had a true friend, an ally. Lady Guerin has been put up in quarters close to Alex’s own, though plans have been made for them to have adjoining rooms following the wedding ceremony, which is fast approaching. The palace has been a flurry of activity, preparing guest rooms, cooking food, decorating the grand hall. It is too much, Alex thinks, and yet… he sees the Lady Guerin’s point, that such a ceremony should be public, for her own protection. And Alex desperately wants to protect her, this good thing in his life.

He could never love her, romantically. But there are other kinds of love, and he… he feels that, between them, believes they share a mutual care and concern. A respect. Alex has lacked that, his whole life, and to find it somewhere so unexpected… it feels miraculous. 

If he must marry a woman, he is glad it is the Lady Guerin.

He tells her that one afternoon, and her face goes very still. She looks younger, sometimes, when surprised, when her eyes widen and she bites her lip. When she finally speaks, her voice is very soft, barely audible.

“There is no one I would rather marry, Sir Alex.”

*** 

He’s sparring with Flint, when he says it.

“Thank your woman for me, Alex.”

Alex lands a hit, pulls back. “What?”

Flint grips the wooden sword he is using, swings for Alex’s bad leg. Alex blocks the blow, glares at Flint.

“The veil. I’m glad to not have to look at her face any more.”

Alex is angry at that. He… he knows that the Lady Guerin is not the most physically attractive woman in the realm. But by the gods, there is more than that, to her… to any woman, any person. Alex certainly knows that, especially since his injury. He lands a hard blow to Flint’s knee, knocking him down. Flint loses his practice sword, tries to scramble for it, but is met with Alex’s own sword at his nose.

“That’s enough. Enough of your mouth and of this fight.” He steps back, sighs. “I cannot control what your narrow mind thinks, brother, but the Lady Guerin will be my wife within the week. You will not disrespect her in my presence.” Without waiting for a reply, Alex stalks away as best he can.

He seeks out Lady Guerin, mind troubled by what Flint had said. 

“My lady,” he says, coming across her in one of the palace gardens. Sure enough, her face is veiled. “May we speak?”

Lady Guerin’s large eyes dart around. “Certainly, Sir Alex. I believe this is a sufficiently private setting for whatever you may wish to discuss. Without appearing unseemly, of course.”

Alex relaxes a bit. “Of course.” He frowns, then. “You… you know you can always refuse me? If you do not wish to speak, or spend time together. Even once we are married. I, I will be your husband, but not your – “

“Commander?” the woman says, arching an eyebrow. “Because I’ve been receiving some ‘training’ from the fine ladies of the court of Unidos, and what they say sounds… quite different.”

Alex purses his lips. “ _I_ am different. Please, please tell me you know that.”

He can see her face soften, then. She brings a gloved hand to the side of his face, strokes it fondly. “I know.” She withdraws her hand then, quickly. Looks down. “I… I do not believe you would ever harm me. Not intentionally.”

“I would strive to avoid it, my lady.”

“I believe you,” she says. “And I _trust_ you,” she says, almost fiercely. “By the gods, I have been too trusting, in the past, but I do not believe my faith in you could ever be misplaced.”

It gratifies Alex, hearing such words from this woman. “I trust you, too,” he says, noting the look the woman gives him in that moment. It is indecipherable. He clears his throat. “I… there is something that is troubling me, though. Why hide your face? It is warm out, and it is not the style or custom here.”

Lady Guerin looks down. “There are those at court who have made… unkind remarks, at my expense. I am many things, Sir Alex, but I am not foolish. I know what is said about me, about my appearance and age. It is sometimes easier for me to… go about my day and business unmolested if I am not so… visible.” There is real pain on her face then. “It is odd, as I have become used to my appearance rendering me invisible, most of the time,” she muses. “Such was the intent, I believe.” Alex frowns. The woman’s eyes widen then, and she looks almost – scared? She swallows quickly. “But I digress.” She peers at Alex, gestures to her veil. “Would you prefer I change this, my lord? Or any other aspect of my appearance?” She is looking at him intently.

He smiles at her, takes her hand. “My lady, it is your face. So it is _your_ choice.”

And even through the veil, Alex can see her smile.

***

“Sir Alex?”

Alex looks up. “Yes, my lady?”

“Before I take my leave, there was something I wished to discuss with you. It concerns our plans for after the wedding.”

Alex closes the book he is reading, looks up at the Lady Guerin. “Please, sit. Tell me what is on your mind.”

The Lady Guerin’s lips are pursed, and she looks thoughtful as she settles herself next to Alex. Her veil is still in place, revealing just those large, flashing eyes. “These past few years,” she starts, “I have largely kept to myself, in my cottage to the North of Unidos, the region bordering Antar, where you found me. Beautiful country, up there, but I find myself yearning to see other sights.”

“Oh?”

“Unidos is such a large and varied kingdom,” she continues. “There is even ocean access, yes?”

Alex nods. “In the South. Bordering the Tamarin Isles.”

The lady nods. “It has been so long since I saw the ocean.” She turns her attention back to Alex. “And it may do us good to get out of the palace, both of us. If only for a little while.”

Alex looks at her thoughtfully. “With all of our efforts consumed by King Noah’s riddle, this last year, it has been some time since we toured the southern border, made overtures toward our allies there.” His eyes narrow. “I believe I could sell such an idea to my father. It _would_ be nice to be out of court for a while. My brothers enjoy it, but I…”

The woman scoffs a bit. “It is a nest of vipers, truly.”

Alex raises an eyebrow, and the woman shrugs. Alex exhales, softens. “I should like to show you the ocean, my lady.”

“I should like that, too.”

*** 

It is done.

Alex gazes out over the great hall, takes in the mass of people that have just witnessed his wedding to the Lady Guerin, and are currently feasting and drinking. King Manes is in a splendid mood, considers the whole occasion a success, an opportunity to crow about his superior wit, cunning, power…

Flint is drunk, flirting with a buxom serving girl. Gregory is more strategic about things, chatting in a corner with one of the princesses of Grenwell.

Alex sighs, takes a sip of ale. He looks at Lady Guerin, seated next to him. She is bare headed and bare faced today, but for a small gold crown nestled in her grey curls. She is wearing a fine dress, flatteringly cut, Alex thinks, and she has one of her own cloaks atop it, the one with the pearls. Her head is high, as if she wants to be seen, but underneath the confident air, she seems… nervous. Alex leans in, grasps her hand.

“My lady?” he murmurs. “You seem somewhat… ill at ease.”

Lady Guerin exhales, turns to face him. “Is it so obvious, Sir Alex? I was trying to conceal my true feelings in front of this crowd.”

Alex gives her a reassuring look. “Only obvious to me, I believe, my lady.”

She shakes her head a bit. “You know my moods, Sir Alex. Heaven forbid I try to conceal anything from you,” she says, frowning slightly. “This is… quite overwhelming. A new life I had never really intended.” Alex sees her eyes flit to the side, toward where the delegation from the Tamarin Isles is seated. “It is reminding me of my past.” She bites her lip a bit. “A past that I must tell you more about, tonight. Privately.”

Alex’s brow furrows. “Of course, my lady.” He smiles then, a bit sardonically. “Whether we like it or not, we shall be granted total privacy tonight. The kingdom expects it, nay, _demands_ it.”

***

Lady Guerin, as expected, begs her leave from the wedding feast just before sundown. The festivities are just picking up, and though Alex and Lady Guerin are supposedly the reason for the celebration, few people notice that they have left.

Alex takes her hand and leads her through the winding halls of the palace, to their new quarters. There is a guard at the door. Alex nods to him, and the guard opens the door, allowing Lady Guerin to pass. As Alex approaches, the guard leans in. “I don’t envy you,” he mutters. “For Unidos, eh?”

Alex frowns. “I’ll hear none of that. The Lady Guerin is my bride.” He looks down the corridor, flags down another guard. “Please relieve this man,” he shouts. As the other guard strides toward them, Alex redirects his attention to the guard in front of him. “I will not have you guarding my bed chamber if you cannot treat my wife with the respect she is due. Is that understood?” The guard nods, tightly, and walks away.

Alex sighs and, once the other guard is in place, he enters his new quarters. They are spacious, and beautifully appointed, as is fitting for the occasion. There are freshly laundered linens on the bed, water and wine by the bedside, and fresh, fragrant blooms. Refreshments, too – breads and cheeses, sweetmeats and ripe fruits. The Lady Guerin is running a finger along the side of the bed. “This is beautiful,” she says. She turns, faces Alex. “I… I wish this could be real, for you. That you could have this with someone you love. You deserve that, Sir Alex.”

“Now, now,” Alex says, crossing to her quickly, grasping her hand. “My lady, we both know what this is, and what it isn’t. What it could never be – “

“What it could never be _here in Unidos_ ,” the lady says, forcefully. “For there are other places in this world, Sir Alex, other people and ways of being.” She blows out a breath. “There are kingdoms that would fete a union of a prince like you to whomever he desires. Lands where you could love any person of your choosing.”

Alex crosses to her, embraces her. She leans into it. “But we are here, my lady. Here in Unidos. And I have told you before and shall tell you again – there is no lady to whom I would rather be bound in this way.” Alex pulls back and takes her hand, raises it to his lips. “I _do_ love you, my lady, in my way. And I hope that you can find it in you to love me, too, in whatever way feels fitting to you.”

“There is nothing to find, Sir Alex,” the woman says, and there are tears in her eyes, unshed. “My love for you… it is already here.”

Alex nods his understanding, his relief. He… he can do this. He can live with the Lady Guerin, in a way he could do with few others. 

And then the Lady Guerin is pulling away from him, withdrawing her hand from his, shakily. “But I fear that your affection for me, whatever form it takes, may not stay, once you hear the truth.” She exhales heavily. “Once you _see_ the truth.” She crosses to the window, pulls the heavy curtain to the side to view the last of the sun, sliding below the horizon. “And you will not have long to wait.”


	7. The Reveal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lady Guerin reveals her secret to Sir Alex.

Lady Guerin whirls around to face Alex. He has never seen her like this before. Wild-eyed. Scared.

“Please, my dear sir,” she says, crossing to him quickly, reaching for his hand. “Please, promise me that, whatever happens tonight, you shall wait until morning to take action.” She shakes her head. “I vow to you that I mean you no harm, that I shall inflict no physical damage upon you.”

“My lady,” Alex says carefully. He can feel her hand trembling. “You are frightening me.”

“I am frightened too,” she says, voice unsteady. She twists her head around to look out the window. “ _Please,_ Sir Alex. You have said that you care for me. If, if that is indeed true, please give me this evening.”

Alex takes a deep breath. “I… I feel that I know not what I am agreeing to…” He feels off-balance, wary. But Lady Guerin looks so desperate... “I promise,” he says.

Lady Guerin slumps at that, embraces him. “Thank you, thank you.” She releases his hand and crosses quickly to a large wardrobe at the far end of the bed chamber. She flings open the large double doors and begins pawing at the various silks, linens, brocades and furs.

“No, no…” she is muttering. “By the gods…”

“My lady?”

“All of my night things, _my_ night things, that I brought with me…” she runs a hand nervously through her hair.

Alex frowns. “I… I believe your garments are most likely still in your private quarters. If you like, I can send for – “

“There is _no time_ ,” she says harshly. Her eyes alight on the nightgown that has been laid out for her for the evening, one befitting a royal bride. It’s all silk and lace, and she eyes it warily. “By _all_ the gods,” she mutters, stalking over to the nightgown and grabbing it in her fist. Turning away from Alex, she unfastens her cloak and begins unlacing the neckline of her gown.

“My, my lady!” Alex exclaims, alarmed now. “I… forgive me, but I thought I was clear about my… intentions tonight. Or, or lack thereof – “

“I… I know,” she says, distracted, fingers fumbling with the laces. “You have been very clear.” To Alex’s relief, she has pulled the nightgown down over her head and is removing the rest of her garments underneath the nightgown, preserving her modesty as best she can. Her fine dress is in a careless heap at her feet and… well, that may actually paint a proper picture if anyone begins to question the validity of this marriage or its consummation…

“Sir Alex!” the woman exclaims, and Alex snaps to attention, meets her eyes. “It is time,” she says simply, nodding to the window. “Stand back, and please…” her voice breaks. “Please remember your promise.”

Alex has barely opened his mouth to reply when it happens.

It is not gentle.

It is not ordinary.

It is _not_ _natural._

Alex watches, slack-jawed, as the Lady Guerin transforms.

All told, it cannot take more than a minute, but to Alex, it seems much longer. He stares, helpless, as the woman’s body twists and shifts in bizarre ways… ways that should kill. But the Lady Guerin barely makes a sound. She seems almost… almost accustomed to this. He can tell there is pain, though, with the way she is grimacing, with the way her face is twisting cruelly.

She, she asked him to stand back. He must stand back.

She made him promise not to fetch a guard, not to raise an alarm… not until morning.

And with a horrible realization, Alex _knows_ , knows that this has been happening the entire time he has known this woman, since encountering her on the road. All those evenings, he had attributed her early retreats to fatigue, modesty, disinterest or discomfort, even, while at court. But that was not it. She _knew._ And said nothing. This, this creature is his _wife_.

Does she mean to kill him? Harm him in some way? Alex rubs nervously at his right leg but cannot tear his gaze from the metamorphosis in front of him. For… for that is what this is, he realizes. He has been so focused on the violence of the changes that he is only now realizing what the Lady Guerin is changing _into_.

Her nightgown has ripped. Multiple places. The fine lace at the breast, the seams of the shoulders. For the Lady Guerin is… a lady no longer.

Alex steps back unconsciously. Where the Lady Guerin just stood, there is now a man.

That, that is not description enough, though.

This, this is a handsome man. By the gods, one of the handsomest men Alex has ever seen. Finely built, skin golden, as if he’s used to spending time out of doors. Through the ruined gown, Alex can see his chest, see the muscle, the hair there. Not, not a pelt, like some men have, but not the smoothness of a boy, either. Alex’s eyes narrow. He looks to be about Alex’s age. His face is very fine, crowned by unruly curls. Alex narrows his eyes, then, leans just a bit closer, for it is the eyes that have him transfixed.

They are large, amber. The same as Lady Guerin’s.

“This is sorcery,” Alex breathes.

And the man… the man just stands there in the ripped nightgown. Stares at Alex with those wide eyes and stretches out his arms.

“Well, yes.”

Alex can hear his own heart pounding in his chest. He has been to battle. He has lived four and twenty years with his hateful father. But nothing in his life has prepared him to confront this, the black arts…

“What are you?” he asks, voice low.

The… man? Creature? Sorcerer? He bites his lip a bit, and it is _so_ like the Lady Guerin that Alex wants to scream. “I’m Antarian.”

A shuddery gasp escapes Alex. “By the gods…” he mutters. “This whole time,” he says, “this _entire_ time?”

The man nods.

Alex glares at him. “And now…?” He regards the man warily. “Have you… have you been in my head?” The man frowns, opens his mouth as if to speak, but Alex barrels forward. “Rummaged around? Seen, seen what I want? Exactly what I desire in a man?”

The man’s eyes widen, and for a moment he looks almost… pleased? Surprised? “I… no!” he says, louder than he anticipates, apparently, because he immediately looks to the door where they both know there is an armed guard. 

“Explain yourself at once,” Alex orders, mustering up every ounce of his military background and royal authority. “For while I have sworn an oath to the Lady Guerin, I have made no pledge to _you_.”

With that, the man sighs heavily. “The Lady Guerin and I are one and the same, Sir Alex.” He glances around the room. “May I sit?” he asks, inclining his head toward a chair near the fire. “I intend to tell you everything, but first… I am sorry.” The man looks down. He appears genuinely contrite, and Alex… by the gods, Alex must keep his wits about him. “I know that by concealing this from you these many months, I have deceived you. I… I had my reasons, which I will explain, but I am sincerely sorry, Sir Alex. Truly, you are the last person I would ever wish to harm, and yet I know that my behavior has done exactly that.”

It is so… _like_ something the Lady Guerin would say. Even the way the man looks as he says it, Alex can see flashes of the Lady Guerin. Alex chews at his lip, regards the man carefully. He _did_ promise the Lady Guerin. If there is but a chance that this man is truly her, somehow…

“Here is what is going to happen,” he says, looking over the man, then looking away quickly. “I will fetch you some… proper nightclothes.” He doesn’t miss the manner in which the man’s eyes flash at that. “And then we shall both sit by the fire, and you shall explain to me, in detail, how all of this came to pass.” The man nods. “And at dawn, well, we shall see where we are.”

He can see some of the tension leave the man. “Thank you, Sir Alex.”

***

It shouldn’t be having this effect on Alex, seeing the man dressed in one of Alex’s own nightshirts. They are nearly the same height, and their builds are not dissimilar. The man is almost maddeningly casual with his body, sprawling thoughtlessly on his chair, leaning forward now and then to stoke the fire. Alex, on the other hand, feels exposed, self-conscious, with his wounded leg on display and his nerves frayed.

“You are Antarian,” Alex finally says. A statement, not a question. “What enchantments have you used to appear this way?”

The man stares at him for a long moment. “This,” he says, bringing a hand to his chest, “is me. My true form.” Alex tries to school his features, keep his face neutral and impassive. “The enchantment I am under is not of my own doing.” He peers at Alex. “What do you know of Antar, Sir Alex?”

Alex leans back in his chair, looks at the man thoughtfully. “There are… many rumors. It is hard to find out anything definitive, what with the mists.”

“The mists, yes,” the man nods.

Alex has heard tales of those damnable mists as far back as his memory stretches. They start just past the fabled Antarian hunting grounds where his father killed the stag. “Those who go in – “

“Don’t come out,” the man finishes, matter-of fact.

Alex’s eyes narrow. “Why is that, exactly?”

The man stares at him a long moment. “It is to do with the various… qualities. Of Antarian blood. Antarian ancestry. It affords us a way to navigate the mists in a way others cannot.” He must see the way Alex is staring at him, uncomprehending. “We do not navigate the mists by sight. We _feel_ the way. Any time we are in close proximity with another Antarian, there is a, how to explain it, a link. A connection. A _feeling_. The more Antarians in one place, the stronger that feeling. That is what pulls us through the mists. Directs us.” The man lifts his chin. “Would you believe that this is the most I have ever shared of Antar, the _truth_ of Antar with an outsider?” He shakes his head.

“I have heard… different things,” Alex says, carefully. “About Antar. According to some, it is a hellscape. Full of sorcery and black magic. Creatures that change form,” he says, looking pointedly at the man. “They say the Antarians can read minds, take you over, make you do… anything.” Alex swallows nervously. “They say the Antarians can control the elements. Fire, water… It is said they can kill you with a glance, a touch.” He regards the man warily. “It is why my father guards the Antarian border so fiercely. Of all our neighbors, it is Antar that he fears the most. I think that is the only reason he did not assemble troops against King Noah, after his threats.” Alex sees the man’s face darken at the mention of the Antarian king. “You… as Lady Guerin, you told me that you had troubles with King Noah. Was that true?”

The man looks at Alex, stares right in his eyes. “Everything I told you was true, Sir Alex.”

Alex nods, looks away. Has to. He glances at the fire. “Others,” he says, clearing his throat, “tell a different tale. To them, Antar is a paradise. No war. No famine. Magic and powers, yes, but used for the common good. Harmony and peace and…” he falters. “Love. Of every form. I have heard that in Antar, it matters not if one is a man or woman, in the eyes of the law. Or the gods.” Feeling emboldened, Alex continues. “Morals are different there. Intimate practices, as well.”

The man looks thoughtfully at Alex for a long moment. “It is somewhere between the two extremes. As most things are,” he says with a smile. It fades quickly. “Two years ago, I would have told you it was a paradise. For to me it was. But I know now that not everyone had the same experience as I, and not everyone abided by the social contract we had so carefully constructed. And that left all of us vulnerable.”

“I do not understand.”

“I was cursed by the King himself,” the man says. “That is why I am like this. I, I angered him, uncovered certain truths about him.” He frowns. “You must understand, Antar is different from Unidos. Even though the King was displeased by me, threatened by me, it would have been unheard of for him to kill me outright.” He eyes Alex. “That is also likely the reason he did not kill your father straightaway when he poached the stag. Honor would not allow it. Riddles, though, deception and curses… such is the province of King Noah,” the man says bitterly.

The man seems lost in his thoughts for a moment, just staring at the fire. His voice is low when he finally speaks. “I must be… careful. With my speech. When King Noah cursed me, he was very clear that, should I reveal certain details of my enchantment to anyone, I would find the affliction to be permanent.”

Alex swallows nervously. “Go on.”

The man looks on edge again, his fingertips twitching against the cloth of his nightshirt. “As I mentioned to you earlier, this is my true form. My real face. But as you know, this appearance cannot stay. As my husband, you have a choice. You must choose whether I shall remain in my natural form, as you see it now, by day or by night.”

“I, I don’t understand.”

“I can only inhabit my true form for half the day. Either by light of the sun or by dark of night. With King Noah’s enchantment, it cannot be both. And per the curse, the choice is yours, my husband.”

“It’s why you pushed for marriage, that first day, out on the road…” Alex murmurs.

The man nods. “I, I knew I may not get a chance to modify the enchantment otherwise.” His head drops. “But I did not expect _you_. Your kindness. Your wisdom. Your wit.” A small smile plays at the man’s lips, but he quickly sobers. “But, per the laws of this land, you are my husband, and your decision stands. Am I to be myself by day or night, my Lord?”


	8. The Decision

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alex must decide if his mysterious new husband will embody his true form by day... or by night.

_Night_.

 _By the gods, of course night_ , Alex’s traitorous body screams at him. It’s been… years. Long years without the touch of anyone. Not that, not that this man _wants_ to. Touch him. But Alex, Alex cannot stop thinking of it. To have this man to himself, each night. He thinks… hopes… If this man is _indeed_ the Lady Guerin, if he truly has not lied…. Well. With such a base to build on, it may be possible. To, to think that perhaps, someday…

Unbidden, Alex imagines touching this man, _really_ imagines it. Pulling him close and sliding the thin nightshirt off of him, threading his hands through his hair, kissing him, claiming him, sharing… himself, in the most forbidden and precious of ways.

Alex bites his lip, makes himself breathe. He _must_ control his reaction. But he finds he does not _want_ to stop thinking on this, the idea of this man. With him. Not just in, in an intimate way, but even just… just retiring for the evening. Conversing together by the fire. He, he could find out the books he wants to read, the foods he likes to eat. They could have half a day, together, every day. Privately. To spend as they choose.

As they choose.

As they _choose._

And Alex looks at the man and knows his response.

“You say that you and the Lady Guerin are one,” Alex says slowly. Carefully. “If that is truly the case, then you already know my answer.”

“My lord?” the man asks, uncertainty flashing in his eyes.

“The veil,” Alex says simply. “The Lady Guerin, after some unkindness at court…” The man interrupts at that, with a loud snort. Shakes his head a bit. “After some unkindness,” Alex repeats, “the Lady took to wearing a veil. I questioned her about it, and she deferred to me.” He studies the man. “Do you remember what I said, then?”

He sees the man’s eyes widen, sees the wonder there. “You said,” he starts, voice low, “that it was my face.” He swallows. “And thus, my choice.”

Alex sees the hope in the man’s eyes, looks away. “Indeed.”

The man steps forward, nearly into Alex’s personal space. Alex forces himself to stay steady, not flinch back or… or press forward. The man’s face seems conflicted, suddenly. “I have spent the better part of two years imagining such a scenario as this. And until encountering you, on the road side, there was no need for debate. Of _course_ I would choose to be rid of this bitter curse by day! To, to feel the sun on my face, my real face?” He brings a shaking hand to his jaw. Alex forces himself to focus not on the man’s fingers, so close to his mouth, but on his eyes. Lady Guerin’s eyes.

“To be able to move about freely in my body, by day? You have no idea what it is like, being a prisoner of your own form!“ The man goes quiet suddenly. Looks pointedly down at Alex’s leg. “Or perhaps you do,” he murmurs, and as focused as Alex is on the man’s eyes, he can see the genuine emotion there – regret and pain. For himself? Or… for Alex? The man swallows. “But now, you are here, in my life, and a part of me, my lord – “ he breaks off. Looks away. 

And then, by the gods, he _looks back._ Really looks at Alex, with an intimacy that startles him. ”I imagine our evenings,” he says in a hushed tone. “I know not what you are thinking, my lord.” He breathes deeply. “It is true,” he says carefully, “that in the kingdom of Antar there are some that can see into a man’s mind. See what he is thinking, influence and even control him in that manner. My sister has just such a gift.” Alex forces himself to remain outwardly steady, though he can feel his heartbeat picking up at the man’s admission. “But I…” the man shakes his head. “You should know that, since King Noah cursed me, my powers have abandoned me. I feel half-dead at times, without them,” he says, bitterness in his voice. “But even when I had full control of them, my gifts were never of the mind.”

Alex swallows thickly. “What, what were your gifts?”

There is a soft smile then, on the man’s face. “I had the gift of movement.”

Alex… Alex forces another deep breath. His damnable mind has gone to one place and one place only… “I, I do not understand.”

“Movement of objects, but without touch.” The man looks wistful. “There was a time I could fell trees with just a thought, move boulders.” He sighs. “But no more.”

“It is hard to picture.”

“I wish you could see it.” The man looks away then, almost shyly. “There, there are many things I wish you could see, Sir Alex.”

The room is quiet then, but for the crackling of the fire and their own breathing. “You said,” Alex starts, “that you have not lied to me.”

“I have not,” says the man, looking at him earnestly.

“But you have said a great many things,” Alex says, uncertain. “You have spoken of…” he shakes his head, “of love.”

“I have,” says the man. 

Alex inhales sharply. “And, and you have said that there is no one you would rather marry.”

“Indeed,” says the man, leaning closer to Alex, licking his lips.

Alex knows his own mouth is hanging open, at this point, does nothing to address it. “You… you have flattered me. Called me handsome. Kind. And you said…” Alex feels almost foolish, bringing this up. “You said that you had lain with men.”

There is a heat in the man’s eyes that was not there before. “Yes.” Alex shudders as the man extends his hand, places it on his bicep. “As the Lady Guerin, I loved you, Sir Alex. In a very specific way. I valued our conversations, your wit, your… consideration. Have you any idea what it was like for me to be _seen_ by you? Treated, treated as a human?” The man scoffs a bit. “I had power, in Antar.”

Alex looks at him sharply.

The man nods. “Yes. I will tell you whatever you wish to know, of me, but to be quick, I was half-brother to the queen.”

Alex’s eyes fly open. “You are one of the princes of Antar?”

“Prince Michael.”

“Michael,” Alex murmurs, turning the name over in his mind. A thought arises then, and he steps back from the man, breaking his hold. “You, you told me you had no designs on the throne! Of Antar _or_ Unidos,” he says, accusingly.

The man… Michael. He looks hurt, at that. “I do _not_ ,” he says emphatically.

“Forgive me if I have trouble believing that, my _Prince,_ ” Alex says scornfully. “What are you playing at, here with me?”

Michael stares at him. “At first, it was very straightforward. Marry you. Present you with this choice. Hope that you would choose the day and ease this horrid curse.” He rakes a hand through his curls. “I had heard the rumors about the Princes of Antar. And the King. Cruel, all of them. I was trying to survive, Sir Alex.” His mouth twists. “King Noah knew what he was doing. He had long been tired of me, of the attention I commanded with the Queen.” Michael sighs. “So he made me invisible. As the Lady Guerin, I said the same things I always had. And I was sure it would be enough. But no…” he says. “The King knew, better than I did, how best to silence me. The world is much crueler than I would have thought, to those it deems of little consequence,” he murmurs.

He seems to gather himself then. “And yet there you were. This, this bright spot of hope – first for even agreeing to listen to me. Then, for actually, actually honoring the bargain to marry me and protect me. For not abandoning me. Killing me.” Alex raises an eyebrow at him. “Yes, I heard your brothers.” The man looks down. “Then for treating me with kindness and respect. And then…” He breathes. “Then, just for, for existing. For being yourself. For that is _your_ gift, rarer than anything I have seen in Antar, or beyond.” Michael looks almost sad, then. “I love you, Sir Alex. I fell in love with you, these last few months. So _yes_ , I imagine our nights. I imagine what they might be, if over time you, you could return the love I feel for you. In the way I feel it.”

Alex hardly dares hope. “I believe…” he says slowly. “I believe that I could.”

The man smiles, then, and it is glorious – all love and hope and warmth. 

“Then I choose the night.”


	9. The Consummation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Michael and Alex express their affection for each other and learn more about the effects of their decision.

Alex is so still, staring at the man, forcing himself to breathe.

“Do... do you allow it?”

Alex scrambles to realign his thoughts, make a proper reply. “Allow? This, this is not for me to allow, it is for you to decide, and for me to support. You have chosen to embody this,” he gestures to the man, “your true form by night. And...” he swallows. Looks at the man almost shyly. “And your decision pleases me greatly.”

The man’s eyes widen. It appears to Alex that he is about to move closer when suddenly, the fire flares out from the hearth.

“Alex!” the man cries, and suddenly Alex feels himself flung backwards through the air, onto the bed, away from the fire. 

Stunned, he stares at the man, who looks just as shocked. Yet the fire itself appears normal, as if nothing out of the ordinary had just occurred.

“By the gods,” the man mutters, looking down at his fingers, flexing them. “By the actual gods...”

“Sir...?”

“You’ve done it,” the man is saying to Alex, wide-eyed, silhouetted by the light of the fire. “You, you’ve freed me. My powers, they’ve returned.”

“That was you?” Alex asks, and perhaps the thought should frighten him, but it does not. Not even a bit. If he is honest with himself it even... excites him. 

The man nods quickly. “The fire, the way it grew, that must have been tied to the enchantment, somehow, to the choice I have made.” He closes his eyes, shakes his head. “It’s been two years, two long years.” And without warning, the man crosses to Alex, drops to his knees. “My lord,” he says quietly, eyes downcast. “I... I was already yours. My lips have already sworn you an oath of marriage. But now I do so from my heart, as well. You have given me a choice where I thought I had none, and in doing so restored a part of me, by night, that I thought lost forever.” He grasps Alex’s hand and kisses it, hard. “I am wholly in your debt, and I am grateful. So...” the man’s voice breaks, “so very grateful.”

“I...” Alex fumbles, uncertain of what to say, and very aware that this half-dressed man is on his knees in front of him. He extracts his hand, backs away a bit. “I... I know not what to call you, when you are like this. Lord Guerin? Prince Michael?”

And the man, the man laughs at that. “Michael. Just Michael, when I am with you and you alone.”

_I alone_. The thought echoes in Alex’s mind, and he feels a sharp pang of desire. This man, against all expectations, has chosen to be himself, his... glorious self for Alex. For _Alex alone_ , by night. It is heady, overwhelming... Alex sits down on the bed, heavily.

“My, my lord?” Michael says, uncertain.

“Alex. I am just Alex, when I am with you and you alone,” he says, echoing Michael’s own words back to him.

Michael smiles at that, slow and warm. He looks sinful, on his bare knees on the cold floor, Alex’s own nightshirt hanging off his shoulder. Alex has to look away. “You should get up,” he says quietly.

Michael quirks an eyebrow, looks uncertain. “If, if it pleases you - “

“Stop,” Alex says, wincing. “Please. Even as the Lady Guerin, you must have known that, between the two of us, with no watchful eyes, there is no need for formality. Deference.” He shakes his head. “And certainly now, with you a Prince! A Prince of Antar, no less...” He trails off. “I can scarce believe it.”

Michael is standing before him now, head tilted, looking thoughtful. “May I sit?” He asks, gesturing to the bed.

_You may do more than that_. Alex nods tightly. “Of course.” He watches as Michael lifts himself onto the bed in one smooth motion, leaving only a sliver of space between them. Alex can feel the heat of him. “You smell of rain,” he murmurs.

Michael’s lips are parted, just a bit. “It... it is an Antarian trait,” he says softly.

Alex leans in closer, notices the way their fingers are almost touching.“We should talk about Antar,” he says.

“We should,” Michael agrees, allowing his fingers to brush against Alex’s. “And we should talk about your father. And brothers.”

Alex nods and shifts his body so that their hips are touching. “We should,” he says, as Michael groans. “Your powers,” he says, and, feeling bold, he reaches out and covers Michael’s hand with his own, strokes the palm with his thumb. “We should talk about those, too.”

“Or,” Michael whispers, a note of desperation in his voice, “we needn’t talk at all.” Alex feels his breath catch. “We... we have spent so much time talking, as the Lady Guerin and Sir Alex. And we shall have so many nights to talk, as Michael and Alex.” He swallows nervously. “Surely tonight, our wedding night...” He lets go of Alex’s hand abruptly. “Forgive me. You’ve only just found out the truth, about me, and I do not mean to presume or, or press the matter. I meant what I said as the Lady Guerin,” he babbles on, “that we need never join, if that is not what you desire, and - “

“Michael,” Alex says sharply, and Michael is suddenly looking right at him. Alex studies his face. He... he is Antarian. Alex could be bewitched right now. This could all be a trick, a trap. And yet...

“I _do_ desire,” he says.

***

It has been so long, Alex thinks. And yet he finds it does not matter, not with this man. Michael. He is aware, very aware, that with each touch, each taste, he is losing a bit of his caution, giving a part of himself to this man, and yet...

Has he not already given and given and given himself to Unidos? To his father and his cruelty? A man is dead, guilty of nothing but loving Alex, and Alex has thus silenced his true self. Until now.

This man could be almost anything, but he could not be worse than King Manes. Alex suspects, in fact, that he is far, far better.

So he allows this - nay, embraces it. Gives himself over to it. The way the poets have written of love, perhaps there is always some bit of enchantment to it, even when the object of one’s affection is not an Antarian. 

And if this man is deceiving him, by the gods, it is convincing. The way he writhes and bucks and grasps, the way he gasps and smiles. The way... gods, the way he touches Alex, like something precious and exquisite.

They are nude, flushed from their most recent coupling, sprawled across the bed. Michael lazily strokes Alex’s chest as he floats a bite of cheese over to him, then some figs. Wine.

“You spoil me,” Alex murmurs.

“In the best of ways,” Michael grins. 

Alex takes hold of Michael’s hand and presses it to his lips. “Thank you,” he says quietly. “I cannot fully believe this is real.”

And Michael... Michael slides his other hand down the length of Alex’s body, down to his very center. “It’s all real, I assure you.”

“Gods,” Alex mutters, dropping his head back to the pillow. He feels Michael working him. “I... oh gods, you feel...” And then his eyes fly open, for now it is not Michael’s hand he feels, but his _mouth_. “Michael!” Alex exclaims before remembering himself, clapping a hand over his mouth.

Michael pulls off of him. “Is... is this not done in Unidos?”

“No!” Alex says quickly. 

Michael quirks an eyebrow. 

Alex is flustered. “I... I suppose I do not know, actually.”

“Well,” Michael says matter-of-factly, “it is done now.” He touches Alex’s hip. “Please, my lord?”

“It... it did feel good.”

“Then I can assure you, I can make it feel even better.”

***

Michael is a man of his word.

Alex, Alex cannot believe what he has just done with his mouth. The way he... by the gods, he can barely think on it. “Is, is that common in Antar?” he finally asks.

Michael shrugs. “Common enough.”

Alex nods. “Even the, the end?”

Michael raises an eyebrow. “Everyone’s preferences are different, I suppose.” A slow smile spreads across his face. “Speaking only for me, I like it. Was it to your liking?”

Alex bites his lip, feels his face go hot. “I think you know that it was.”

Michael grins even wider, and props himself up to kiss Alex’s shoulder. “I suspected as much. But I shall need additional information.”

Alex scoffs a bit. “Oh yes?”

Michael nods solemnly, just barely containing his mirth. “Oh yes. I think I shall need to have my mouth on you again.” He begins to kiss down Alex’s body. “And again,” he moves lower. “And again.”

Alex blows out an unsteady breath. “Michael, the daybreak,” he says reluctantly, gesturing to the windows. 

Michael sighs heavily and leans back a bit. “The sky is getting lighter.” Without warning, he touches the side of Alex’s face gently. “Thank you for giving me the choice,” he whispers. “I shall miss this,” he says, gesturing at his body. “But I look forward to the coming evening.”

“As do I,” Alex says, so earnestly. Alex drapes his arm around Michael’s shoulder, pulls him in close. “This is better than anything I could have dreamed.” 

“I agree,” Michael says quietly as he settles his head on Alex’s shoulder. And together they watch the sky become lighter, watch the sun begin to creep over the horizon, watch...  


And watch.  


Watch still longer as _nothing happens_.

“Michael?” Alex finally asks tentatively, looking at the fully risen sun.

“Oh gods,” Michael says, looking down at himself. “Oh gods,” he repeats, rising from the bed and walking to the window in disbelief. “Alex,” he says seriously. “I do not think we have just eased the enchantment, I think we have broken it entirely.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! I am also aewriting on tumblr.


End file.
